


When You Want

by chronologicalimplosion



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Episode: s04e07 The Barbecue, F/F, POV Rachel, Shippy Gen, Very Lightly Shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronologicalimplosion/pseuds/chronologicalimplosion
Summary: Stevie is the one who checks Rachel out of the motel the day after Patrick makes it clear they're not getting back together this time. As out of character as it is for Stevie to give unprompted advice, she thinks it's possible that she might actually have something helpful to say to Rachel.
Relationships: Stevie Budd/Rachel
Comments: 14
Kudos: 26





	When You Want

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a little character study so I could 1) get into Rachel's head and 2) actually finish something in this fandom before I started working on longer pieces. I haven't read a lot of Rachel/Stevie stuff although I've seen the tag, it just sorta. Happened. I'm not going to _say_ I have some ideas to add onto this because this is all I have written, but idk if you like what you see watch this space I guess. Most of my larger WIPs are David/Patrick so this was a nice change.
> 
> Also please forgive any wild typos, I've checked it twice but this was written longhand in my chickenscratch on a tablet and converted to digital letters by an underpaid AI.

When Rachel rounds the corner with Alexis, she freezes and her lips move without her, so used to the steps of their little dance. She immediately regrets it. The image of his easy smile, clearly slightly embarrassed but _uninhibited_ by that in a way she's never seen on his face, catches up to her brain after her thoughtless lips have already ruined the moment.

He closes off, slight tinge of puppy dog panic in his eyes, confidence shattering, and she hates how much more familiar this Patrick is to her. Control of the moment slips through both of their fingers, and for the first time she feels like she should just let herself escape Patrick's orbit, like she might in fact be the one dragging him back to her--away from his own happiness.

Everyone's gaze is on her for the longest second in history, making her feel extra small after having been just moments ago the focus of Alexis's million-watt grin.

She hopes she might just combust.

And then time speeds up again and attention is off of her. She tries her hardest to wrap her nameless guilt up in the blanket of her hurt.

* * *

Rachel knows she's moping when she goes to check out. She knows her eyes are puffy from crying and that she's an hour and a half late for checkout (also from crying) and that she's abusing the overwhelming social awkwardness because there's no way Stevie Budd or Johnny Rose was going to knock on her door and kick her out after _last night_.

She knows, but does it anyways because she doesnt want to face them either.

Unfortunately, eventually, she has to pay the piper. And by piper she means the motel. _Maybe if I look sad enough, they won't charge me a late fee_ , she'd thought morosely to herself as she packed up her few travel necessities, tucking her dollar store shampoo into the neat folds of her considerably more expensive lingerie. It was as good a cover as any for why she couldn't bring herself to look in the mirror long enough to wash her face.

She had to hope, because there was nothing that would make her feel _stupider_ on the long drive back home than knowing she'd paid for two nights at a motel in the middle of bumfuck nowhere for _absolutely no good reason_.

Stevie was the one at the check-out desk, and when she saw Rachel come into the room, she tensed, eyes wide, drawing her weight up off the chair as if to flee before finally pressing her lips together _hard_ and turning to the computer.

Rachel handed her the room key in silence and the two accidentally brushed fingers because they were each studiously not looking at the other.

The silence sat on the air, punctuated by a few loud mouse-clicks, before the ancient printer hummed to life. The sound of the head printing one line at a time was agonizingly slow to Rachel, but to her surprise--because she was still looking anywhere other then Stevie--the other woman eventually broke the silence. "Uh, about your... 'advice' to Alexis..."

Rachel screwed her eyes shut, feeling heat in her cheeks and tasting bile. "Yeah, Alexis mentioned it... didn't work for her either."

Stevie grimaced, holding her mouth open for a minute before she could force the words out. "No, I mean. It's not like I'm particularly well-versed in healthy relationships, but... don't you maybe think that... you deserve someone you don't need to fight for, regardless of whether or not he has a-"

"Well, I did say games will only get you so far," Rachel interrupts, not able to handle being lectured by one of Patrick's new friends from his new happy life that she'd potentially ruined, from the sound of it.

Stevie thinks for a long time, looking uncomfortable. She hands Rachel her receipt and the redhead is surprised to find absolutely no mention of a late check-out fee. Her eyes burn again from the overwhelming pitifulness of the whole situation, but when she looks up, Stevie doesn't exactly look like she's pitying her.

"Just... this isn't just about Patrick and David, okay? You don't... you don't have to just stick with what everybody expects of you. I hope you find someone who just texts you when they want to text you and doesn't make you overthink it."

Rachel smiles softly at Stevie, the first genuine smile she's made since she turned the corner yesterday and saw Patrick. Steve's eyes go wide and duck away from hers, obviously uncomfortable with the sincerity.

Rachel grabs the receipt and picks up the single bag she brought with her, not quite smiling but not quite frowning. She feels strangely seen by the flannel-clad motel owner, and already suspects she can read her in return more than Stevie would be comfortable with. She's got practice.

"You should text me sometime," Rachel calls over her shoulder just to see what it'll do to Stevie's face. The genuine confusion, overexaggerated as it, is charming.

"I don't... we just met? And I'm not psychic?"

"You've got my check-in info. Text me if you want; I'll text you back when I'm home."


End file.
